One of the benefits
of being, perhaps, a wee bit hung over, is that there is plenty of room for quiet, reflective
moments, time on the couch spent mulling over such monumental matters as people
who refer to cucumbers as “pickles”; the increasing popularity of large wooden
plugs in the pendulous, distended earlobes of the young; and the fact that I’ve
inherited a scalp with so little oil production that I can easily go a week
without washing my hair.
“I don’t understand this,” Mary says from the end of the couch. “I can’t go more than two days.”
“Have you tried?”
“Look, I think I know my head.”
“Do you, Mary? Do we ever really know our own heads?”
My own head comes near the current end of a genetic line of women with thick, dry hair. The truth is that it doesn’t get oily, it gets dusty; and brush as we might, we run the risk of finding, say, the odd bit of lint stuck in there.
If I had a dollar for every time someone reached for my head saying “Hold still a second, you’ve got something in your hair…” I’d have enough money for, well, several really good hairnets.
“A guy on the bus once pulled a live bug out of my hair,” I tell Mary. “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“That’s what you get for having thick hair,” she taunts. It’s an ongoing thing between us: she envies my thick, bugful hair and I envy her great-looking legs, despite the increasingly bad knees.
We each envy what the other has, despite neither of us having anything to do with its possession beyond upkeep.
“Hmm,” I say.
“Well, hey,” she offers, “at least they’re checking you out, huh?”
It is quiet as we stare at each other. “What kind?” she says.
“What kind?”
Her blue eyes have that twinkle in them, the one that lights her face from the inside, particularly when she’s messing with me. “The bug that he pulled from your hair. What kind was it?”
What kind of bug? Why I oughta…
She laughs as I lean forward, perchance to slug her one, but I am too late.
She’s already out of range.
The knees aren’t out of those legs yet.
“I don’t understand this,” Mary says from the end of the couch. “I can’t go more than two days.”
“Have you tried?”
“Look, I think I know my head.”
“Do you, Mary? Do we ever really know our own heads?”
My own head comes near the current end of a genetic line of women with thick, dry hair. The truth is that it doesn’t get oily, it gets dusty; and brush as we might, we run the risk of finding, say, the odd bit of lint stuck in there.
If I had a dollar for every time someone reached for my head saying “Hold still a second, you’ve got something in your hair…” I’d have enough money for, well, several really good hairnets.
“A guy on the bus once pulled a live bug out of my hair,” I tell Mary. “Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“That’s what you get for having thick hair,” she taunts. It’s an ongoing thing between us: she envies my thick, bugful hair and I envy her great-looking legs, despite the increasingly bad knees.
We each envy what the other has, despite neither of us having anything to do with its possession beyond upkeep.
“Hmm,” I say.
“Well, hey,” she offers, “at least they’re checking you out, huh?”
It is quiet as we stare at each other. “What kind?” she says.
“What kind?”
Her blue eyes have that twinkle in them, the one that lights her face from the inside, particularly when she’s messing with me. “The bug that he pulled from your hair. What kind was it?”
What kind of bug? Why I oughta…
She laughs as I lean forward, perchance to slug her one, but I am too late.
She’s already out of range.
The knees aren’t out of those legs yet.
31 comments:
Pearl--You tried to slug Mary but I imagine it was NOT a slug that was in your hair.
I envy you. If I don't shampoo every day, people start asking if they can fry a scrambled egg on my head...
Tell them that bug was in case you went fishing!
ray
A bug in your hair?
I would love a bug in my hair!
I would love to have hair!
What kind? Bwahaha! Sounds like something I'd ask... and get punched for. I'm sorry to report I was also "blessed" with oily skin and bad knees. I think I'd rather pull bugs from my hair. *sigh*
I want to know what kind, too. These things do matter.
And here I have dry hair and bad knees.
So, what kind of bug was it again?
We are from the Greasies, the Grosse Pointe Greasies and any bugs that tried to live in our hair would be smothered in a very short time. There is no air in Greasie hair.
It was rather gallant of that man to remove that bug from your hair. At least that's how I'm picturing it :)
We all have hair problems. I sympathize. Mine is curly, fast-growing and likes to climb trellises.
Imagine the savings in shampoo and conditioner when you only shampoo once a week!
Kids joke; "Your hair smells like Poo...Sham-Poo.
“...Do we ever really know our own heads?” so philosophical. I thought you might break out in song. "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?" by Chicago. You could do the Pearl version:
"Does Anybody Really Know What Hair Bug It Is?"
No, we never really know our own heads..
Now, I don't think I want to know mine.
But I don't have oily hair and thank you God! I have never had a bug pulled out of it ... I think I would still be running, screaming at the top of my lungs if that had happened.
:o)
Hmm, I think I would like dusty hair instead of oily. I have to wash mine every two days.
I wash mine every two days, too! Lucky you! Plus I have bad knees and legs you would not envy!
You've got me wondering now about whether or not I really know my own head. I think not.
"Do we ever really know our own heads?"
I didn't know you were going to get deep.
Please excuse me as I light some incense, dim the lights, ease into a lotus position and contemplate this existential question...
Ooommmm.....
... oh wow, i always thought that was a magic trick. some people gets quarters, some gets bugs.
... and i wonder if the people who call cukes "pickles" also call green peppers "mangos" ... and if so, if it's a northern indiana thing.
I have the combination kind of hair where the ends are dry but the scalp needs washing every 4-5 days. It isn't super thick, but at least not thin enough to see scalp shing through it.
hair bugs don't last long for me. Once they've tickled my scalp they fly off to greener (hairier) pastures :)
Great story! Yup, only we know the inconveniences of our beauty ;) nice to meetcha.
So what kind of bug was it???
Part of the human condition always wanting what everyone else already has..
Thank you Pearl. Loud smiles from here.
And I fall into the thick hair envying great legs brigade.
You'll be glad of the thickness in your later years. Mark my words:)
I'm a Dapper Dan Pomade Man!
Oh, I so wish I had your hair! Mine has thinned so bad in the last 5 years that I can see my scalp through my hair. And I do have to wash mine every day.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who a) doesn't need to wash my hair as often as other people and b) enjoys the odd hangover to ponder through the meaningful things in life. :)
I have the same hair! But here's a peculiar thing, since all my recent stress, it has become shiny and manageable... every cloud, as they say.
Sx
My theory is that god gave women either long legs or thick hair- but rarely both. In my next life, I am hoping for the former.
I wash my hair every time I shower. So, I guess about every month or so. If I need it or not...
Funny one Pearl!
Well, at least the monkey-like grooming incident ended well. Perhaps he was "the one". Thank goodness it wasn't a stink bug!
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